


He felt hopeless.

by leithvoid



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: Blake Dies, Gen, im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:22:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23612236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leithvoid/pseuds/leithvoid
Summary: “We have so much to say, and we shall never say it.”- Erich Maria Remarque, All Quiet On the Western Front.
Kudos: 12
Collections: 2nd devons writing challenges





	He felt hopeless.

**“We have so much to say, and we shall nev** **er say it.”**

Erich Maria Remarque,  _ All Quiet On the Western Front _ .

Many men entered the military in the Great War, most new and young. They went in wanting to make a difference in the world, to create history and make their mothers proud. Some followed in the footsteps of fathers and older brothers. There is one in particular that we don’t get to know for long.

Blake, Thomas. He was a fresh nineteen-year-old soldier, new out of training and onto the Front. There was an older man in his battalion, Blake used to think he was salty because of all the younger soldiers coming in. But that wasn’t why the older soldier, with bright blue eyes, would sit alone by the trees outside their position. 

The older soldier was Schofield, William. He was in his mid-twenties, this wasn’t his first battle and it wasn’t the closest he’d ever been to a battle. Schofield became a quiet man after he was injured in Somme. Though something about the perky young soldier was interesting. 

Schofield didn’t think that he would one day be holding the body of Blake in his arms, as he bleeds out shaking and whimpering. “Am I dying?” Balke asked something in his eyes already knowing the answer. Blake trusted Schofield to tell him the truth, he needed to hear someone tell him that he was dying.

It took so much of Schofield to not answer in a sense of protection for the young soldier  _ No, you’re going to be fine, you hear me? _ . “Yes, I think you are.” The words felt cruel as they left Schofield’s mouth. He didn’t want to scare Blake anymore than he was already, but he also was aware of how much Blake trusted the older man.

Blake reached for his front pocket, Schofield pulling out a photo the had his brother and mother on it. It was like his own photos of his family, on blue card stock to make sure it lasted longer in the weather and hell it would be put through.

Schofield glanced at the blake and white image, he knew Blake wasn’t going to make it. There was too much blood and he couldn’t stop it. He wanted to know who he would need to find once Blake was gone. 

“Will you write to my mum for me?” He asked, breathing short.

“I will.”

“Tell her I wasn’t scared.” He tried to pick something to say out of the hundred things going through his mind. Schofield finally chose to stop trying to prevent the bleeding and just hold Blake tight. He knew the fear he felt, he understood the thought he was having. Laying there not able to see the future in sight, knowing if he’d just stayed home maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t be here right now. Wishing that he wasn’t dictating his final letter to his mother.

“Anything else?” Schofield took a mental note of Blake’s last words. Tightening his hand around Blake’s as he noticed the soldier’s breathing becomes more panic-filled as he starts to feel the effects.

Blake can feel that he is dying. 

“I love them, I wish that… I wish...” He tried to find the words, maybe the young man was too afraid to say what he was thinking. Maybe he wished he’d never enlisted or left his mother.

Blake’s faced was pale, and he was stiff in Schofield’s arms. Schofield held him close.

“Tell to me me,” Blake begged Schofield, didn’t know what to say to him. What do you tell a dying boy? Schofield was never good with words, and differently not comforting words. “Tell me you know the way.”

Schofield resited the directions they were going to take, as Blake looked up to him. Schofield tried not to look into his eyes as he talked, it made him want to stop talking. “It’ll be dark by then.” Blake retorted. 

“That won’t bother me,” Schofield replied, hopefully, that s comforting to the soldier in his arms. He continued he told Blake how he was going to find his brother, how Joe looked like Blake but a little older. But Blake was no longer breathing.

Schofield inspects Blake he looks younger now, then he did before, it pulls on his heart even more. He lets himself have a moment where he cries for his lost partner. Schofield is desperate, he wants,  _ needs _ Blake to wake up, to breath — but he knows that isn’t going to happen. 

What Schofield found so intriguing about the young soldier was how lively he was, how much he wanted to talk and make peoples days brighter. Now. Now he was laying on the grass, in Schofield’s arms, dead. 

Blake would never go home and tell his mother about his adventures. He’d never tell another funny story to make someone feel better or to make an uncomfortable situation more comfortable. Blake would never see his brother, his family again. 

In a fleeting moment, Schofield felt hopeless, alone.


End file.
